Harry Potter and thehmm
by Khaleesi
Summary: Right then. This takes place right after the third book....so, I'm not quite sure what that makes it, but I basically had many ideas and made them into this! Tra la here we go...
1. Vacation With the Dursleys

Beneath the bright sunlight of the English countryside, Harry Potter trudged behind his Uncle Vernon, lugging three bulging suitcases with him. Staring with hatred at his uncle's quivering oversized back, the young wizard thought longingly of icy pumpkin juice, fresh from the kitchen of Hogwarts...  
Well, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was far from here, the unknown village of Bosington. Harry himself had no idea as to why his large uncle and wisp of an aunt would decide to vacation here, nor why they would take him along. They – his aunt, uncle and tremendous cousin Dudley, who was waddling along with the train platform creaking ominously below him – hated Harry, hated him with a dangerous passion. Harry, in turn, found the Dursleys revoltingly easy to hate back, and hate them he did. But there was no denying it – he had no living relatives with which to live, since his parents had died.  
Since his parents had died...the thought of it brought back a, rather painful, memory of looking into the Mirror of Erised in an abandoned classroom at Hogwarts, and seeing himself...reunited with his parents...  
"BOY!" Harry heard Uncle Vernon bellow. "WHERE'VE YOU GOT TO – excuse me, pardon me – BOY!"  
Harry looked around. He realized that lost in thought, he had wandered to the edge of the platform. Not far away, a shiny rental car was bulging with the Dursleys luggage and Dudley. Harry strolled over quickly, stuffed the suitcases in the trunk, and wedged himself between Dudley and the car door.  
"Right, then," he heard Uncle Vernon say, and the car started off.  
Trying to take shallow breaths in the little space he had, Harry wondered about his godfather, Sirius. A wizard wrongfully accused of the death of many Muggles – non-magic people -, and of being in league with Lord Voldemort, he had barely escaped death at the end of the school year – with the help of Harry and one of his best friends, Hermione Granger.  
Thinking about the bushy-haired Hermione made Harry wonder about Ron Weasley, the red-haired, freckle-faced, other part of the trio. He wondered just where Ron was...no doubt doing something much more fun than being cramped in a car on the way to a predictably boring vacation. Harry, his face already squashed against the window glass with his glasses pressing painfully into his face, saw the tiny village of Bosington nearing. Surrounded by trees and gently swelling hilltops, it had seemed "positively perfect" to the squealing Aunt Petunia in the brochure. Harry, however, couldn't see how three streets covered with little shops and a single hotel could be perfect.  
The car trundled along the road, reaching Bosington and pulled into the hotel parking lot. It took several trips for Harry to take the Dursleys luggage inside, along with his own tiny rucksack and wand stuffed into his pocket, as always. Once they had all been settled in – with Harry staying on a bare cot in Dudley's room – Uncle Vernon decided it was time to, "Take a stroll, breathe some fresh country air!"  
The Dursleys and Harry ambled along the streets, winding in and out of the quaint shops, tiny cafes and antique stores. They had just reached what seemed to be the end of a main street when Harry noticed it out of the corner of his eye.  
It was a corner shop, made of white stones, with the words Smythe's Potions and Fine Ingredients scrawled on the swinging sign. The window display had several dusty books and scales placed in worn velvet. A potion shop - here – in Bosington, a Muggle village!  
Harry stared. Then, hesitantly, he tugged at Uncle Vernon's arm, who was chattering animatedly.  
"What?" he snapped.  
"D'y – do you see?" Harry asked tentatively.  
"See? See what?"  
Harry pointed to the stone cobbled shop  
"A used bookstore? Fancy yourself a new book?" Uncle Vernon scoffed.  
"But it's – it's.." And idea dawned upon Harry. He was reminded of the Leaky Cauldron, a wizard pub that...only wizards could see...  
"Er – yes, I do," Harry said. "I'll – I'll go check it out, then."  
"I'm not giving you any money!" Uncle Vernon squawked insultingly.  
"I...didn't ask you for any..." replied Harry vaguely, and set off across the sunny street.  
He reached the shop and reached out a hand to touch the cool stones. It was real. He opened the side door and stepped inside.  
He was in a rather small front room, with shelves lining the walls and – it gave Harry a jolt – the roof too. Boxes were piled and scattered all over the floor and bags littered the shop. A high mahogany desk sat near the far wall and – Harry had another jolt – a girl his own age of fourteen stood behind it.  
She hadn't noticed him yet, tugging at the old fashioned cash register in front of her. Harry took a step closer. Her hair fell in a slightly disheveled way to her waist– auburn it seemed in the low-lit shop. Glasses, slim and pointed, sat on her nose. She seemed a bit short – Harry noticed several cushions piled beneath her feet. He gave a little cough.  
The girl jumped a foot in the air and the cushions fell about the floor, her atop of them a moment later. "Oh!" she cried from her place on the floor, and got up to walk around the desk to Harry.  
"Hello sir, how may I..." her voice trailed off. She had looked up to meet Harry's eyes. Harry himself felt his stomach give a twist as he looked into hers, dark and green as the sea. It was unnerving – she resembled a female Harry, with his mother's eyes. "You...look familiar."  
Harry was used to this. People often recognized him – he, Harry Potter, who had survived a curse from Lord Voldemort when he was just a baby - Lord Voldemort, who had defeated all and was the most evil of all wizards! "Erm...yes." He said uncomfortably.  
"Have we met before? I don't think you're from Bosington. And you're certainly not a Muggle," she continued conversationally. She had, Harry noticed, a rather different accent.  
"I'm – erm – not from Bosington...I'm H-Harry Potter," he replied uncertainly.  
Her mouth flew open. "OH! You're the one they've been talking about! They've been telling me all about you, they never said you'd come here..."  
"Er...sorry...but, who's been talking about me?" Harry couldn't understand her accent. It was so...different...  
"Oh sorry, I didn't mean –"she stopped and looked wonderingly at his scar. "I – my, uh, family I suppose.  
"You suppose?" It dawned on Harry that the last thing he would have expected on his vacation with the Dursleys was talking to a witch in a dimly lit potion shop on the corner.  
"Well you see, I didn't used to live here. I used to live in Canada, you know? We do have terribly good Quidditch teams there, if you don't mind me saying. And then about a year ago, my parents...they..."  
Harry didn't need her to finish the sentence. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.  
The girl gave a little shake of her head. "Thank you. Anyway, I came here to live with my aunt and uncle – Beatrice and Bernard. They own this shop, you know, we live just upstairs." She pointed to a door on the back wall that Harry hadn't noticed.  
"Oh."  
Silence.  
"I...I was wondering, isn't Bosington a Muggle town?"  
"Oh yes!" She smiled warmly. She had a kind, easy smile that reminded Harry forcibly of Hermione. "We have permission from Albus Dumbledore to run the shop up here...All the Muggles thinks it's a used bookshop, they try to stay clear of us for the most part. Think we're a bit odd, you know, we've got strange shipments coming in now and again. We're only allowed to stay up here because Bosington is so small, and alone up here in the mountains. We couldn't exactly have three boxes of dragon scales shipped to London!"  
Harry laughed a bit too loudly. It echoed around the dusty shop, and a sort of awkwardness fell between them. "So..." he began, and trailed off. She was glancing around the shop uninterestedly. Harry didn't want to go, but didn't know what else to say. "You said something about Dumbledore?"  
"Oh yeah, he's the one who let us run this up here, you know, sorted some stuff out with the Ministry. He's the Headmaster of –"  
"Hogwarts," Harry finished for her. He was grinning now too. "Are you going there in September?"  
"Yes, I'm a bit nervous, you know, I mean I've never..." she looked suddenly anxious.  
"What House d'you think you'll be in?"  
"I don't really know. I suppose not Slytherin, eh? Not that good of a House I've heard, but that's coming from Brenda and you don't really know when it comes to her..."  
"Trust me," Harry assured her, "Slytherin is the last house you want to be in." He thought instantly of his rival and archenemy in Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy. "Who's Brenda?"  
"She's my cousin. There's the five of us, me, Brenda, Jools, Beth and Tom, except he's a fiend, don't mind him."  
Harry felt a little tickle in his stomach. "Don't mind him?"  
  
Her smile widened. "When we have you over for tea, of course! Uncle Bernard and Aunt Beatrice will be so excited to hear you've come to Bosington, everyone has been talking about you. Oh, and I am Maggie. Maggie Smythe, if you couldn't tell by the sign."  
Harry felt himself begin to beam. Maybe a vacation with the Dursleys wouldn't be to terrible after all. 


	2. Comet Two Sixty

It had taken several rounds of shouting, threats, bellowing and arguments with Uncle Vernon, but Harry finally had the chance to meet the Smythes for an evening cup of tea. He set off down the streets in the cool dusk air. Upon reaching the shop, he was unsure whether to knock or to come in to the back door when he heard a screech of, "THERE he is, he's here Mum, he is!" Harry looked up and saw a figure disappear into the open corner window. There were scuffles, thuds, and a "OW! What are you – get out of my room!" A moment later Maggie's face appeared out the window.  
"Hi Harry!" She waved furiously as though he was forty feet away.  
"Hi," he replied with a grin.  
"Mum says come inside, we're just up the stairs through the door and – OW! Get OFF you idiotic – "Maggie flopped halfway out the window and retreated inside with an angry war cry. Harry stepped inside the shop, past the door with the CLOSED sign swinging.  
He headed through the shop and back door, where he entered a musty room filled with even more boxes and a set of stairs leading to another door. Feeling slightly nervous, Harry strode up the stairs and pulled the door open.  
A snarling brown-haired wizard who had thrown himself at Harry's head flung him back down the stairs. Both tumbled into a pile of crates, which smashed, raining small red leaves upon Harry.  
"TOM! WHAT – WERE – WE – JUST – TALKING - ABOUT?" he heard a woman's voice thunder. The small wizard crawled off Harry. A broad, muscular woman with stringy brown hair and an easygoing face helped Harry to his feet. "I'm sorry, he is such a...hello Harry, I'm Beatrice Smythe." She pumped Harry's hand up and down in a bone-cracking handshake. The young boy who had attacked Harry ran up the stairs with Harry and Mrs. Smythe following.  
They entered a small, round kitchen that led to a front room littered with old-fashioned furniture. A telescope sat on an open windowsill; a long table surrounded by chairs leaned against one wall. An owl perched on the sink tap looked at him sleepily, making Harry think of his own snowy white owl, Hedwig. A thin man with a long blonde ponytail was sitting in a chair by the fire, along with Maggie and two smaller versions of Mrs. Smythe grinning at him from the couch.  
"Harry, sit down," Mrs. Smythe said encouragingly, and propelled him towards a chair by the man.  
He smiled at Harry. "Bernard Smythe," he spoke up softly, offering Harry his hand. Behind him, Maggie winked.  
The girl beside her was nearly bouncing on the spindly couch. "And you're Harry Potter, I've seen you at school, I'm Jools," she crowed.  
"Oh. I...right," said Harry, slightly put-off since he had never seen this girl before.  
"I'm in Hufflepuff, you know, this'll be my second year." Her wide face gave a muscular beam. Mrs. Smythe saved Harry from having to say anything to the excitable Jools by bustling over with the teapot.  
"Tom's just gone to bed, I really am very sorry about his...well, I am sorry," she finished hastily.  
Harry chuckled. "It's all right," he told them. For a while, Harry forgot about the Dursleys, and simply enjoyed the tea and chatter. Mr. Smythe discussed with him the business of potions; Harry told Maggie all about Ron and Hermione. Slowly, the sky darkened. He hadn't even realized it was so late until Brenda, who had been too shy to talk, fell snoring into the cookie plate. Harry leapt to his feet, knowing Uncle Vernon would near flog him for being home so late. "I...I have to go, back to the hotel, thank you for the tea, " he said quickly, trying to reach the door without running. He turned and waved to the Smythes before racing out to street. "Oi! OI HARRY!" he heard Maggie's voice shout. Harry turned. "Meet me at the bridge at noon tomorrow, alright? Uncle Bernard wants me to show you around Bosington...tell your aunt and uncle they can call us if they like."  
"Yeah, I'll try," Harry yelled back, and pounded the streets to the hotel. He couldn't imagine Uncle Vernon having anything to do with the Smythes. He couldn't even imagine Uncle Vernon letting him out of the hotel after this...he probably thought Harry had been plotting with wizards all night...which, Harry thought with a grin, he almost had.  
* * *  
"OUT ALL NIGHT! COMPLETELY DISOBEYED – I HAVEN'T–"  
"Yes, yes I know, I am sorry, now can you please shut UP, so I can –"  
"WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME? PREPOSTEROUS! BOY IF I DIDN'T – I CAN –"  
Harry ignored his uncle, who was swelling with anger like a balloon with helium. He sidestepped the narrow-eyed Aunt Petunia and shut the door to his and Dudley's room with a slam.  
Dudley himself was almost jumping for joy on the bed, which cracked and squeaked with pain. "You've come home late," he sneered, his many chins waggling like a tail.  
Harry snorted. "I couldn't tell, what with your dad's head popping off at me," he retorted sarcastically.  
"You don't think you'll be allowed out now, do you?" puffed Dudley, thoroughly worn out by his gleefulness.  
"They can't lock me up in here, can they? 'Course, that would be a nice change from following Ickle Duddykins around, eh?" Harry said in the sappiest voice he could manage.  
With a final CRACK of the bed, Dudley lunged at him. Harry, though, was ready for him and had his want pointed at his cousin's nose.  
Dudley froze, his pig eyes fixed on the point of the wand. "Magic – not allowed – "he stuttered.  
"Right, not allowed am I? But I just got back from a wizard's shop, remember? They'll have me round for tea again...wouldn't like it if I showed up bruised and beaten. And they're allowed to do magic." Harry leered the last word with relish. The Dursleys hated many things, but if there was one thing they hated and feared, it was magic. Dudley himself looked positively terrified.  
"MUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUM!" he howled and ran straight into the door, which flew open to show Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia staring in shock at their son.  
"He said...he said they'd use..." Dudley sobbed from his place on the floor.  
Uncle Vernon rounded on Harry. "WHAT'VE YOU BEEN DOING NOW? Petunia and I were just discussing – you can't possibly – boy, you think you've – "  
  
"I didn't do anything, it's the stupid lug's fault that he ran into the door – "  
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?"  
"- And anyway, I didn't use any magic, you would've known by now, I was just telling him about the Smythes, you know the wizards I –"  
Uncle Vernon hissed at the word 'wizard'. "You...will have nothing to do with those...those...people, do you hear?"  
"I can't do that," Harry argued in a raised voice, "I've already said I'll meet Maggie tomorrow –"  
"You will do no such thing!" roared Uncle Vernon. "Now – go – to – bed!"  
A whimper emerged from the shaking lump Aunt Petunia was holding. "Dudley, boy, you can stay here with us, not with him – "said Uncle Vernon.  
Harry turned round and slammed the door behind him. He paced restlessly, staring moodily at the bed, which sat in two halves now...he wished Hedwig were here, but he'd sent her off to stay at Ron's for the end of summer...how he would get from Bosington to Diagon Alley, the hidden wizard market, to buy his school supplies, he didn't know...all he knew was that tomorrow, he would not be staying here. Not if he could help it.  
  
***  
"Well, boy, looks like you've earned yourself a day inside, eh?" Uncle Vernon chuckled to himself. "And there's no use trying to worm your way out of this one, I've already told the staff you're a problem boy. No thumps or yells will help you now." He chuckled even more annoyingly and slammed the door behind him with Aunt Petunia and Dudley ahead of him.  
Harry sat on a bed half and ground his teeth. If only...if only he was allowed to use magic! He fingered his wand lovingly before striding to the window to glare out at the trees.  
BAM BAM BAM  
Three heavy knocks at the door made Harry nearly smack his head on the window. He looked round bewilderedly. No one would call on him...no one even knew he was here...  
BAM BAM BAM  
Cautiously, Harry shouted, "It's locked...you...you can't come in here."  
A voice floated into the room, "I know that, Harry, just making sure you were in there."  
Harry stared. "Maggie?" he asked incredulously.  
"Yes, Harry, of course it's me. You didn't think I'd let you stew in your room all day, did you? Give me a minute –"Harry heard some clicking and shuffling before the door burst open.  
Maggie stood there grinning. Harry's eyes widened even more.  
"I thought...we're not allowed to use magic," he said stupidly.  
Maggie waggled her eyebrows mischievously. "I didn't use magic. Uncle Bernard lent me his lock-opener -"she held up a silver knife-like object, "-we use it for boxes that have ingredients that can't be touched by magic without being...oh never mind. When you didn't show up at the bridge, he sent me here." She smiled pleasantly.  
"I...my uncle and aunt..." Harry trailed off apologetically.  
Maggie snorted. "Don't worry, we'll have you back before they get here. Closing and locking the door behind her with the lock-opener, she walked past the broken bed to yank open the window.  
Harry looked at her in disbelief. "Maggie, we're not –"  
He stopped short when Maggie reached out the window and pulled in a hovering broom.  
She laughed at Harry's dropped jaw. "Shall we?"  
Harry hurried to the window and tugged in a broom with the words Comet Two-Sixty engraved on the handle. The two mounted their brooms and kicked off through the open window, into the inviting and pale blue sky. 


	3. The Leaky Cauldron

Harry swooped gratefully over the treetops, the wind raking cool breeze fingers through his hair. He dipped down to skim his toes on the leaves, laughing as a nearby bird shrieked with indignation. Beside him, Maggie chuckled and urged her broom faster.

"Not quite like a Nimbus Two Thousand, eh Harry?" she shouted over the wind, naming Harry's infamous brand of broom.

He smiled. "Better than any hotel room," he shouted back as his robes whipped up to slap his cheeks and watering eyes.

Maggie pointed to the river nearing them and dived down to meet it. Harry followed closely.

They both swerved and landed lightly on the grassy banks. Harry threw himself onto the grass beside the slow river. Maggie let out a sigh.

"This is my favourite place in Bosington, here by the bridge," she said happily. Harry looked up and saw a cobblestone bridge not far to the right. The trees swayed hypnotically in the breeze. Harry stretched lazily.

"I don't know what I'm going to do when I have to get my school supplies, the Dursleys can't go to Diagon Alley –"

"Oh, don't be silly Harry," interrupted Maggie, "of course _we'll _take you there, Aunt Beatrice already said so, and Jools hasn't shut up about you since you came over last night. Oh yes, and Beatrice sent an owl to your Weasley friends, we'll be meeting them there and we can all stay at the Leaky Cauldron, eh?"

Harry beamed at her. She smiled back at him, and Harry felt a sudden tickle. He'd never made a friend so fast. For a while they sat there, listening to the water, Harry enjoying the blissful feeling of being free. All too soon, Maggie got to her feet. She grinned at Harry and offered her hand.

"We should go get some lunch at the shop, can't be seen by the Dursleys," she told him. Harry sighed, grabbed her hand and pulled. When he stood up faster than he expected, the two knocked into each other. His face slammed into her nose; Maggie fell back with a cry.

"SORRY!" Harry shouted instantly, as if the louder the word the better the apology. He bent over the fallen girl.

"It's – it's all right, it wasn't your fault," Maggie gasped, but Harry noticed her eyes had watered and blood has blossomed beneath her glasses. She pulled them off to reveal a slice across the bridge of her nose. Maggie smiled. "Not the first time that happened." She pointed at Harry's face. "You, too."  
Harry reached up, pulled off his glasses and noticed his fingers smudged with blood.

"Glasses were never my friend."

"Come on Harry, move your feet!" the voice of Mr. Smythe shouted over the heads of Muggles. Not far, the Smythes waited patiently for Harry to say his good-byes to the Dursleys.

Harry turned to his aunt, uncle and cousin, who were shrinking away from the wizards on the train platform.

"Well...bye then," said Harry calmly.

"Off you go," whispered Uncle Vernon, as though his open mouth would let some devil magic in. Aunt Petunia and Dudley quivered behind gigantic eyes.

Harry hurried to the train compartment as it shrieked rudely. He slammed the door behind him and hastened to find the Smythes.

"Over here, Harry!" he heard Jools squeal. Keeping his head down, Harry muttered, "excuse me" to the person closest to him, and shoved his way down the train.

Maggie appeared from nowhere. "Nearly lost us, Harry?" she greeted him, then seized his arm and yanked him into the compartment. The Smythes sat there beaming. Harry smiled and took his seat.

"_That _was the most boring train ride in the history of train rides, I mean we didn't do anything but _sit, _and how boring is that Harry? Isn't it boring? Isn't it?"

"Yes, Jools," Harry mumbled. Jools, he had discovered, needed his opinion on everything. It had been all right the first half of the train ride, but when she never stopped asking him...

"Leave him alone, Jools, you've been badgering him all the way here," said Mrs. Smythe sharply. Harry glanced at her gratefully.

"I have not!" Jools flared. "I haven't, have I Harry? I haven't been badgering you? Have I, Harry? I haven't..." Harry let out the tiniest of sighs.

"HERE WE ARE!" trumpeted Mrs. Smythe suddenly, and pulled Jools and Brenda into the Leaky Cauldron. The rest followed, Mr. Smythe keeping a firm grip on Tom.

The group made their way through the dim pub. Harry thought he saw a familiar bright head sitting not that far away...was it...

"RON!" he shouted suddenly, causing a nearby witch to jump a foot in the air. The red-haired head snapped around, and Harry saw that it was, indeed, his freckle-faced best friend.

"HARRY!" Ron roared, and leapt from his seat to run to Harry. He skidded to a halt, then looked confusedly down at Maggie beside Harry.

"You're not Hermione," he said stupidly.

Maggie laughed. "No, I'm not," she told him, and reached a hand up to tap his nose. "I'm Maggie, and you must be Ron."

"Why would you think she was Hermione?" asked Harry.

"Because – well, didn't you get her owl?" Ron spluttered. "She said she'd be meeting us here, probably around the same time as you."

Harry shook his head. "I haven't seen her – "

"THERE you are, I have been...looking everywhere..." puffed a voice from the door. The two looked to see their third bushy-haired best friend run panting towards them. "I looked all over the train station, Harry, I thought I might see you there..."

"Well that was rather stupid, wasn't it?" Ron said, raising an eyebrow. Hermione shot him an icy glare, then turned to Maggie.

"I'm Maggie," the brunette spoke up quickly. "Harry and I met in Bosington, we run a potion shop up...there..." her voice faded nervously. Hermione was smiling at her, but Ron was inspecting her with a wrinkled nose.

"Where did you say you met?" he sniffed, but Hermione rolled her eyes and interrupted with, "Any friend of Harry's is a friend of _ours_." On the last word, she gave Ron a meaningful elbow in the ribs.

"OUCH! What was tha...oh yes," said Ron with a look of utter chagrin on his face, "friend of Harry's, yes."

"How was your summer?" asked Hermione, and soon the four of them were chattering companionably. Soon, Hermione fished out two envelopes from her pockets. "Here you are, your school letters...they arrived yesterday..."

Harry examined his. "Who's the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" he asked, the three previous ones being possessed by Lord Voldemort, their memory modified, or a werewolf.

"Mister...mister...ahh, I've forgotten it," replied Hermione. "Some friend of Dumbledore's. Well...shall we go to supper?"


End file.
